


Tactless Touch

by Natty



Series: Hunger, Taste and Touch [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Character Death, Dubious Consent, Enchanted Gwen, Enchanted Merlin, Evil Morgana (Merlin), F/M, Imprisoned Arthur, Love Potion/Spell, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Out of Character, Post-Magic Reveal, Powerful Merlin (Merlin), Queen Morgana (Merlin), Rape/Non-con Elements, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:15:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25837102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natty/pseuds/Natty
Summary: With Gwen at her side, Morgana faces the aftermath of her most resent enchantment over Merlin. Meanwhile, Morgause ponders the dangers of keeping Arthur alive and giving Merlin too long of a leash.
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Morgana (Merlin)
Series: Hunger, Taste and Touch [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806169
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	Tactless Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Certain parts of this story are a little smutty. Due to the nature of the relationship in question I have included the tags for Rape!Non-Con and Dubious Consent. (THIS HAS SOMEHOW BECOME PART 3 of something I intended to be a one shot! IDK Why!)

It had been a difficult thing. The magic that kept Merlin at her side had been old. Something not used in many years that she had found only after her victory over Uther’s soldiers. Oh, the former king had certainly believed that he had burned magic out of Camelot, but Uther was a fool. 

In Camelot’s famous library she found it. Just like she’d found the iron callers buried in the winding vaults. So, all that she had needed was at her fingertips and everything she wanted could finally be hers. Merlin was magic and once she knew that, once she had taken the time to think backwards over close scrapes and near misses, she knew that Arthur was nothing without Merlin’s power to back him.   
The iron had kept Merlin at bay while she wondered what to do with him. There had been the anger, her betrayed heart had urged her to see his unpleasant end but the thought of it had left her torn. The spell book had come to her as if by providence, like the caller it arrived just in the nick of time. Everything could be just like it was before and Merlin could be forgiven. His transgressions forgotten and his loyalty hers once more. 

It was by far the most complicated work of magic she had ever done, and he’d been stubborn, of course he had but once it was done it had seemed perfect... It hadn’t lasted though. As she had predicted on the night of Uther’s death, Merlin’s bond to Arthur was unmoved by her beguilement. So, it had become a complicated little set of spells that kept him at her side. 

It took a series of strange words and finely ground herbs to make the second spell. Flowers brewed together to make a sweet tea that wiped away memory, rewrote history. With every sip Merlin drank Morgana purged Arthur from their story. Morgana made sure Merlin drank it at least once a week and kept an emergency jar of the ground herbs in her room. She had tripped over the words the first time, feeling nervous and rushed. the echoes of Merlin’s storm still rigging in her ears. Now she knew the words by heart. They ran through her mind as she sat, board before the new council. 

On automatic Morgana reached for the locket around her neck, it felt heavy and reassuring in her hand; a part of herself and a part of Merlin bound together in a shell of brass. A drop of blood, a lock of hair; there were so many uses for these things when you could command magic. 

Morgana looked up and once again caught Morgause glaring at the locket. There eyes met. “You should have consulted me before you did that sister!”

“Really? I wasn’t aware that I had to get your permission to use my magic.”

“You have tapped into something that you cannot possibly seek to control; he can barely control it himself!” Morgause’s hand flew out to gesture towards the shattered windows of the council room, still unrepaired since Merlin’s magic had washed through the castle and shook it all the way down to its foundations. “Look at the damage that has already been done. You don’t have the training to control such power.”

Morgana stared at her sister blankly. More and more often now Morgana found herself feeling weary of Morgause’s advice. She could still remember the comfort it had brought her at first. When she had only begun to discover her magic and halfway drowning in her fear, Morgause had been the only comfort… but had she always spoken this way? There could be no question that Morgause cared for her, that she was powerful and had helped Morgana more than anyone else but Morgause was vicious. Morgana had reveled in the cruelty. It had felt like revenge, addictive and so very freeing. Now that Morgana was queen, Morgause seemed more like a vindictive child than anything else. Morgana’s rage had been satisfied. She no longer needed to seek for more but only to hold onto what she had. Her hand drifted to the locket again. 

The council meeting went on. The new treasurer was a nervous man who fumbled with paper and never met the eye of anyone else at the table. He was speaking today about repairs needed in the lower town. The man floundered, sneaking a glance at Morgana as he searched for a word other than earthquake that could describe the events of the previous day. Merlin had done quite a bit of damage it seemed. “Peace,” Morgana sighed and raised a hand, “magic can be used for many of these repairs.” Looking round at each of the gathered council members, “This is an opportunity to re-establish the people’s faith in the crown now that my rule has truly begun.” 

… 

Arthur glared out at Morgause’s smirking face. He wasn’t surprised to see her. Her visits had become more and more frequent. She stood before him and smirked, smug, and twisted. The most Arthur could do was keep his back straight and his jaw strong. She almost never spoke. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t. He was going mad alone in the dark and the cold, to argue with Morgause was better than the silence that filled most of his days. “What? Does Morgana not need you anymore?” 

Arthur ran a hand over his face. He needed a shave. He needed a bath for that matter. Not that it mattered at all anymore, there was no company in the dungeon. The knights were long gone now. He wasn’t sure anymore how long ago it had happened but once he’d seen Morgana’s men lead them away, he knew they wouldn’t be coming back. 

Arthur dragged himself to his feet. He ached from his pounding head down to his cold toes, but he made his way to the center of the cell. He stood tall and proud, feet shoulder width apart, head held high. “Why do you come here Morgause?”

She said nothing but her lips twitched, and he couldn’t be sure if she had meant to smirk or snarl. She hadn’t looked so pleased the day before when she’d found Merlin in the cells, after the earthquake. Arthur had never experienced an earthquake before. Camelot certainly hadn’t seen one in living memory; it had to have been magic. There had been a moment when Arthur had been sure he was about to be crushed by the castle tumbling down and then it had been over. There was a large crack in the mortar of the stone roof above him. The cell door had shifted too. Arthur had half hoped that enough movement would have been caused that he could escape. If there was a way he hadn’t found it yet. He also hadn’t told the guards about the crack in the ceiling though, just in case. 

The thing was he’d been poking around the cell in search of escape and then Merlin had suddenly been there. And It had been Merlin. Arthur had to keep reminding himself of that because he wasn’t himself. The confusion wasn’t about the new clothes he wore either. Dress Merlin up however you like and he’s still just Merlin. Arthur would know the idiot just as easily in silks as he would in rags but there was something strange about him. Something in his eyes and the way he looked at Arthur. Like he had no idea who he was. It was almost a shadow of Merlin, recognizable but not right and his presence had frightened Morgause. Just for a second, she had seemed afraid. Her eyes had gone wide like a child coming across a wolf in the woods and then she’d plastered a severe look over her face to hide it. Arthur couldn’t really imagine anyone being afraid of Merlin but the memory of Morgause’s face kept swimming back into his head. 

He couldn’t help the smile that crept up on to his features. “Only I don’t get many visitors. Just the guards and you. Oh, and Merlin of course.” He watched with glee as Morgause’s eyes bugged out and she turned her head towards the stairs. For a moment she stared at the steps as though expecting Merlin to suddenly appear, summoned by his name alone. 

When he didn’t arrive, Morgause turned her glare back on Arthur. “He’s been here?” 

Arthur smirked, ‘only the once’ was probably not the right answer. “Yes, he’s been here.” 

Morgause’s eyes narrowed. “Visit you often, does he?”

Arthur just smiled back at her and hoped that his gambit wouldn’t have consequences for Merlin. Morgause’s smirk returned but it seemed brittle now. She seemed about to speak when something washed over the room, a wave of, of something. Even Arthur felt it. Morgause clenched her fists, it had almost the taste of magic. Merlin did that sometimes. Threw his magic out like a net over the castle. He could be looking for Morgana, he could be doing anything really. 

Morgana let him have far too much freedom. She should have kept the iron caller on him or at the very least had the common sense to chain him to the bed. When you considered the layers of spell work that Morgana had placed on him the poor wretch probably wouldn’t even mind. Arthur was still staring at her. Eventually, Morgause turned in a huff and took her leave of the former prince.  
From his hiding place in the shadows of the cavernous dungeon, Merlin watched her go. 

Halfway up the stairs she began to mumble to herself. She was starting to worry. It had come upon her slowly, something that her sister had already recognized and yet still taken too lightly. Morgana had reached out into the center of a hurricane intent on bending it to her will and soon she would be caught up in its wind and torn to pieces. Morgana had no idea, no gauge for power. Morgana only knew what she was capable of, she had no idea what power could really do, not that kind of power. Morgause knew power, she had felt it as a child, the power of the priestesses. Growing up Nimueh had seemed invincible but Nimueh was dead now. That thing Morgana wanted to keep as a pet had killed her.

It was amazing how loose the tongue becomes when one finds themselves beguiled by a witch. Merlin had enough secrets to fill the vaults of Camelot a few times over. Well… he’d had secrets, Morgana probably knew them all now. Jaw clenched, Morgause wondered just what it took to kill Nimueh.

…

The buzzing in his head was worse than it had ever been. Merlin listened to the sound of Morgause’s steady footsteps heading up the stairs and echoing back down. Merlin watched the scruffy man pace back and forth in his cage. Was it this wretched creature that twisted through his mind whenever he was alone? If he were gone would Merlin’s confusion vanish too? To be free of this fog, the bees that stung and buzzed within his scull, well that would certainly be worth killing for. Then he could be alone again, he wouldn’t go mad the moment Morgana walked out of the room.

He still had the blade from Morgana’s chambers… Something in him refused to part with it. He didn’t even need it though. He could simply put an end to the man and go back to Morgana. Would she mind? 

Merlin could make it fast. It would take nothing more than a twitch of his fingers. The man didn’t even know he was there. Did he really have to die though? What would happen if Merlin simply set the man free? Distance could be as good as death couldn’t it? And he was a prisoner. If he escaped, then the guards would kill him, and Merlin wouldn’t have to. But he’d feel just as guilty. Merlin felt the weight of the blade in his hand. 

That could change things couldn’t it? He wouldn’t be loosing the guards on an unarmed, skeleton of a man. If he gave the man the dagger it would be a chance at freedom. Maybe this man could get away and then they could both go on. Neither harming the other and if the man in the cell wasn’t somehow responsible for Merlin’s pain, then he wouldn’t have been murdered for something that he hadn’t done. All Merlin had to do was unlock the cell door, then he could just slide the dagger across the floor and leave. No harm done, let this man make his own decision. Merlin heard Morgause’s footsteps falter. Still his fingers tightened around the hilt of the blade, undecided… 

… 

The sheets on the bed looked perfect, clean, crisp and inviting. The window was open letting in a pleasant breeze, it caught the little strands of Gwen’s hair that hadn’t been swept back into her bun that morning. She straightened out the curtains. Everything ought to be perfect. Morgana was obviously starting to hate attending her own council meetings. It was no surprise to Gwen; she would have hated it too. Helios was on the council. Spending anytime at all with that pig was sure to put any woman in a foul mood. 

Gwen looked about the room. She had put a new vase full of fresh flowers on Morgana’s vanity. The yellow flowers brightened the room just a little. It was the best she could do. Morgana’s chambers had sustained quite a bit of damage during the earthquake. There had been shattered windowpanes, broken vases and things scattered all over the floor. Merlin had fixed the windows and Gwen had cleared the room of the other debris. When Morgana returned to her chambers, Gwen greeted her with a smile and a “Good afternoon my lady.” 

Morgana crossed the room in an instant and embraced Gwen in a hug. “Its such a relief to have you as a friend Gwen.” She pulled back to look at her maid’s kind and open face. “I don’t know how I ever managed without you. I’m going to visit the people and survey the damage in the lower town, perhaps you could come with me. It will be just like old times.” 

Gwen smiled indulgently at her queen. There was work to be done, of course, there was always work to be done but Gwen would happily shirk it to spend more time with Morgana. 

Though some harsh and painful memories of the former king haunted her, Gwen could hardly remember a time when Morgana hadn’t been queen. Her mind was fill with blurry memories of walking through the lower town with Morgana, secretly handing out bread to starving peasants who had come in search of anything to feed their families. The old king had refused them aid. She remembered Morgana’s generosity and the wide-eyed gratitude of those that they were able to help. “I would love to accompany you my lady.” 

Morgana beamed at Gwen, “Of course Merlin and Morgause will be with us as well.” Gwen’s smile faltered. She hadn’t been able to convince herself to like the queen’s sister. The woman was cold and unkind. She knew that Merlin didn’t like her either.

Morgana glanced out of the window, the days were getting steadily shorter and the sky had already started to darken. “We had better make our way to the lower town before it gets much darker.” Morgana closed her eyes and focused on Merlin, immediately she felt his answer. For a moment the locket about Morgana’s neck seemed to grow heavier and then Merlin materialized by the door. Gwen couldn’t help but jump in surprise, whirling to face Merlin. 

Morgana turned a brilliant smile on Merlin, and he returned it. He had his hands clasped behind his back; his shoulders pressed against the closed door. Gwen studied him, he seemed off to her. His smile was almost impish and the innocuous pose he’d taken seemed somehow provocative. It was something to do with the slant of his body, the angle of his hips. One of his legs was bent at the knee to let his foot join his shoulders against the door. The air in the room felt heavy and electric as though even the smallest movement would generate sparks. The subtle hum before the lightning strike. His eyes ran up and down Morgana, from the hem of her dress to the golden spokes at the very top of her crown. Morgana met his eye and raised an eyebrow, a sort of smug smile drifting over her face. Gwen cleared her throat uncomfortably. 

Merlin snaped his head to the side to look at Gwen. The movement was so quick and sudden that it reminded Gwen of a hunting bird. His eyes were dark and hooded. She swallowed, offering a little wave and a smile. Merlin blinked at her; his expression was unhappy but not entirely unfriendly. “Hello Merlin.” 

Merlin smiled back and the charge seemed to leave the air. “Hello Gwen.” He turned his head back to the queen. “Hello Morgana.” 

Morgana walked to Merlin and kissed him full on the lips. He met her kiss happily but didn’t reach for her, his hands stayed resolutely behind his back. Morgana pulled away. “I’ve asked Gwen to join us on our tour of the lower town.” 

Merlin looked at Morgana dreamily. “Lovely.” 

“We had better go before we run out of time. Morgause will meat us in the lower town.” Morgana walked to her closet and let Gwen help her into a lavish over coat. Behind them Merlin’s eye flashed gold. When Morgana turned around Merlin had opened the door. He offered her his arm as she walked past. 

Some of the towns people were gathered in the courtyard, examining the damage caused by the earthquake. Morgana surveyed them, the common people. Uther’s obsession with noble bloodlines had always disgusted Morgana. Whatever lies he may have told, the man had seen anyone outside of the noble class as expendable and worthless. Morgana remembered when Gwen had been captured and held hostage in her place. Her skin still crawled at the way Uther had turned away from her without a second thought. Morgana gave Gwen a smile as they walked out into the afternoon sun in the courtyard. It felt so good to have her back, to have Gwen’s strength and loyalty on her side. A large crack ran through the cobble stones of the courtyard, Morgana glanced at it. On either side of the crack the ground seemed to slope down, sunken into the earth. 

Morgana tightened her grip on Merlin’s arm as she descended the castle steps. Most of the people in the courtyard looked up to watch the queen arrive. Uther would be rolling in his grave, if he had a grave. Morgana found some pleasure in that. She’d have like to see Uther’s face at seeing his ward on the arm of not just a commoner but also a sorcerer. As the three of them made their way to the lower town people took notice. Enjoying the moment, Morgana didn’t even think to look for Morgause. 

…

Arthur had heard Morgause’s footsteps long before he’d seen her, he wasn’t sure why she had come back. He would never know, her reasons where long gone now. She’d been caught by surprise when she came into the dungeon. 

She was a high priestess of the old religion, but no magic had passed in the darkening dungeon, she hadn’t had time to speak or even scream. The knife had gone into her gut with no more resistance that it would have met striking water. 

Arthur looked down at the knife, it was still coated in blood. The blood on the hilt had covered his hand, his stomach twisted. When he closed his eyes, he saw Morgause slide to the floor, leaving a trail of red behind her on the wall. He had to keep running. There was still some light, it would have been better to wait until the cover of night, but he couldn’t wait in the unlocked cell. Not with Morgause’s blank eyes staring in at him. The warning bells were still silent, but if he stopped, he’d be caught, and he would never get another chance at this.

He had to keep running but nausea was washing over him, he was shaking. Morgause had been evil. Not bad, not misunderstood but evil. He should be glad that she was dead. She was dead and he was out, he could regroup and plan and… and he could still hear the sound of the knife as it moved through Morgause’s skin. The look of shock and terror on her face. He had to keep running… 

He was out of the dungeons. He pressed his back against a wall and tried to catch his breath. The scene in the dungeon played on in his mind. He heard the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. He held his breath as she rounded the corner. He watched the dagger flash as it plunged into her gut. He saw the horror on her face. He left his cell, took the blade, and ran. He had to keep running.   
Arthur looked around the hall that he’d found himself in. It wasn’t that far from the armory. He could escape from there just like he had on the night that he’d helped smuggle Mordred out of Camelot. He took off running again. He could only hope that the metal lattice at the end of the tunnel hadn’t been repaired since Merlin had torn it free. The thought of Merlin made Arthur’s stomach twist again, he might be sick. He had to keep running. He saw Morgause’s wide frightened eyes. He turned the corner into the armory and thanked every god he could think of that he found it empty. Arthur grabbed one of the swords from the rack and shoved the hanging shield aside. The dark tunnel beyond was full of cobwebs and dust. 

…

As they walked through the lower town Morgana’s formal posture had begun to relax. She’d let go of Merlin’s arm and taken his hand instead. There was quite a bit of damage done on the main street. Some of the stands that lined the street had collapsed. Ruined merchandise rested below shattered pieces of wood and collapsed roofs. People were beginning to gather nervously. Their heads poked out from behind doors and windows. 

Fearfully they observed their queen. It was the first time that she had been in the lower town since she had become queen. They had seen her only from the balcony when she presided over the public trials of traitors against her reign. Morgause at her left proud and stern and Merlin on her right staring down into the courtyard a crease of worry between his brows. Now that she was in the streets, people watched her tentatively from the periphery, Merlin on her right and Gwen on her left. Morgana stopped in front of a broken cart that had been hauling hay. She swallowed hard, it was now or never.   
Morgana could hear the beginnings of whispers behind her. She raised her hand. In the corner of her vision a few people flinched. Morgana spoke a word and the scattered hay began to gather neatly in the air. The twine that had previously held the hay together rose up to rap back around the newly reformed bales. With one hand Morgana held the hay floating in the air with the other she waved at the broken wheels of the cart. Another word spoken clearly and confidently into the open air. The broken spokes jumped up and the wheels reformed. Eyes glimmering with power Morgana righted the cart and lowered the hay back into it. She let her hands drop back to her side. The whispering had stopped. Silence filled the street. Morgana stood in the quite and waited.

It was Gwen that started it. Wonderful Gwen, who started to clap. The sound was loud, and it echoed slightly down the street before a few tentative others began to join in. Morgana’s face broke into a smile full of pride and relief and victory. In the space of a few breaths the street erupted in clapping. Gwen grabbed at Morgana’s arm and leaned close to be heard over the noise. “Morgana that was amazing!” Morgana grinned at her maid and lifted her hand towards one of the collapsed stands. 

She could feel Merlin beside her, pressing close. He leaned in and kissed her jaw as she put the wreckage of the street back together. She couldn’t keep going. The damage on the street was too much and she was beginning to feel lightheaded as one of the stalls reassembled itself. Her people were swarming around the street now. From somewhere in the crowd she heard the word miracle. She let her weight rest against Merlin as he pressed up against her back. The broken trusses of the stall lifted and mended revealing the wears inside. Silk scarfs and other beautiful trinkets. Morgana felt her legs begin to shake. Her magic was still weak, in so many ways still unknown to her. She was exhausting herself. It would begin to show soon. 

Morgana tilted her head back to look at Merlin and kiss the corner of his jaw. A couple voices in the crowd whistled. To the servants in the castle kitchens, Merlin’s enchantment was common knowledge, but Morgana had no idea if it was known to those who lived beyond the castle. 

Morgana felt the reassuring weight of the locket around her neck as she locked eyes with Merlin. His eyes were blue but this close she could pick out the tiny hints of gold that were always there. How had she ever believed that he was anything other than magic. “Help me.” 

Merlin turned his gaze out on the street before them. Then he raised a hand almost lazily. For a moment Morgana could feel the street, a wash with magic. All about them things began to right themselves. The crowd went quite again. Merlin kissed Morgana’s temple. The street was pristine, as though the earthquake had never happened, as though the battle that had made Morgana queen had never happened. The stands looked newer and stronger than Morgana could ever remember them being. She felt a thrill at the knowledge that Merlin’s power belonged to her as much as it did to him.  
Morgana risked a glance at the people. They looked awestruck, wide eyed and disbelieving. A young woman broke from the crowd and ran to the stall that Morgana had mended. Her head whipped about taking in the work that the magic had done, then she turned to Morgana and threw herself to her knees. “Thank you, your Majesty!” 

The crowd began to cheer and smiling in genuine joy Morgana waved as she led her party of three back towards the castle. The woman from the stall got up and ran forward holding one of the silk scarves in hand. “Please accept this as a sign of my gratitude my queen!” Amongst cheers Morgana accepted the scarf. 

As they walked back through the lower town the crowd followed and by the time, they reached the courtyard Morgana felt as though she were leading a parade. She noticed that the crack in the cobble stones was gone, the ground had risen back into the straight lines of the masonry. She ascended the castle steps and with a final wave the three disappeared inside. “That was a wonderful thing you two did back there!” Gwen was grinning from ear to ear. “Some of those goods would have been unsalvageable without magic. You’ve saved those people’s lively hoods!”

Morgana hugged Gwen tightly. “I couldn’t have done it with out you! Here.” She handed the silk scarf to Gwen with a smile. “I want you to have it.”

Gwen smiled bashfully as she accepted the proffered item it was smooth and beautiful. She was quite sure that she had no use for such a lovely item, but she wrapped it about her shoulders anyway and smiled in thanks at Morgana. 

…

When Arthur had entered the tunnel there had still been a few hours of daylight left. Not that it had done him any good. Inside the tunnel it was pitch black anyway. He’d had no time to steel a torch, so he’d stumbled through the tunnel sightlessly. Tripping up and bumping his head on the sloping roof. By the time he made it to the other end of the tunnel the sky had turned to a dark blue and the forest beyond looked murky and alien. He breathed a sigh of relief at finding the exit unbarred and scrambled out into the woods. 

He badly wanted to lie down and rest, but he had no idea how much more time he would have. He had no plan. He had to find somewhere safe to sleep. Morgana had only fed him just enough to keep him alive, exhaustion and weakness where closing in on him. Already panting, Arthur broke into a run, determined to put some distance between himself and the castle. He ran like a mad man until he reached the Valley of the Fallen Kings. In the bowl of the clearing fog had begun to gather. It looked haunted and unwelcoming. Arthur stumbled down the stone steps into the bowl and looked about for a crevice or cave; somewhere to rest for the night and plan for the morning. They would come looking for him soon he needed to plan while he could. 

There was a rocky shelf hidden behind the crumbling statue of a king and Arthur crawled into it. His head felt heavy. There was no way that he could reclaim the throne on his own. The knights where gone and he couldn’t be sure of any allies within the castle. He could run to one of the neighboring kingdoms for aid, but he had nothing that could prove he was who he claimed to be. Still his best chance was if he got out of the kingdom. 

Something bitter settled in the back of his mind. What he needed was Merlin. To bounce ideas off of or to lift his spirit. Arthur sighed, or maybe he just needed Merlin to show up and use his magic to get them out of this mess. Once the thought was there it ate at him. How many of his victories were his own and how many belonged in secret to his servant. Arthur slept restlessly for no more than an hour and then he took off running again.

…

It had taken forever to get her alone again. He had no idea how long she’d be with him. That was the problem, all of these people who wanted Morgana’s attention. Her council, her witch sister and now the maid as well. Merlin couldn’t bring himself to hate Gwen the way he did the others. Gwen was soft and sweet, she made Morgana happy and Merlin liked her. Or at least he knew that he should like her… but he didn’t want to share. He wanted Morgana. She drove him mad. He felt like a wild animal, always on the cusp of lust and barely able to contain himself.

He wanted Morgana. It didn’t matter that he’d already had her in every possible way that he could imagine. It didn’t matter that there was no part of her that he hadn’t already touched, or that she had to know his own skin better than he did by now. It didn’t matter that her nails had already left long scratches down his back. It didn’t matter that her teeth had already left purple crescent moons over his shoulders and neck. He wanted her fingers to dig into his skin again. He wanted her to bite down until she tasted his blood.

He just wanted to do it all, over and over again and to never stop. He wanted to always be touching her, with his hands or with his mouth, anything that made skin meet skin, any way to touch her, to taste her, to be inside of her. He felt as though his skin would peel off if he went too long without just touching her. Every part of him was a part of her, his body, his mind, his heart and even his magic seemed twisted around her finger. 

He loved her like fire loves oxygen, and he knew without wanting to know that if she were to turn away from him, he would asphyxiate and wither away. It was a terrible certainty. It kept him awake, kept his skin hot and his blood high. So, he wore the clothes she picked for him, he took them off whenever she liked, he curled around her as she slept to chase away the dreams that haunted her, he welcomed Gwen and he mended broken stones. Anything she wanted, anything that turned her on, absolutely anything at all. Some small backwards part of him was always alert now, anticipating the agony of her absence with something that didn’t quite count as fear. 

He looked up at her beautiful face, at her wicked expression. Her nightgown was pail violet and thin enough for him to make out the features of her body beneath it. It clung to her breast and it pooled around her waist meeting the clean linens of the bed where she sat astride him. He lay on his back with his hands above his head, not tide down but still trapped. He could feel the heat of her pressed against his groin. It felt as though her insides where made of velvet fire, too hot and too soft and too much. 

She leaned over him and even the tiny movement drove a ragged breath from his chest, because he couldn’t touch her. It was the only thing he needed in all the world, just to touch her and he couldn’t. She had told him not to move so he held still. He was breathless and desperate but still.

Morgana hovered, lips less than an inch from Merlin’s neck but not quite touching him. Her breath came in hot gusts against his throat. His fingers coiled into fists from the effort of holding still. Morgana’s locket slid forward on its chain so that the front of the piece landed against Merlin’s chest. Where the brass had been pressed against Morgana’s breast it was skin warmed, but the front was cold, and Merlin gasped when it touched him. “Morgana.” 

She hummed lowly as the corners of her mouth turned up. She kissed the side of his neck and whispered, “Merlin, my Merlin.” She pressed her lips to his neck again in an open-mouthed kiss, sucking at the soft skin just below the corner of his jaw, a place too high up to be hidden by his shirt callers. Somewhere she could see whenever she wanted. He swallowed thickly. Without warning, Morgana roughly scored her teeth against the fragile skin and reveled in the noise that Merlin gave to her in reply. She brought her lips to his ear and hissed, “Emrys.” Before biting down on his ear hard enough that he yelped. 

Beneath her she could feel the bow string tension of his body, the solid virility of him. Muscles flexing and trembling in protest against the order for stillness. Heat filled her body, this was the most powerful sorcerer in the world, shaking beneath her, stilled with nothing more than her words. It wasn’t magic. Morgana felt centered, utterly in control. “Do you feel powerful Emrys?” The was a dark glee in her voice. 

Morgana kissed his parted lips. “Morgana…” He breathed her name, like a prayer, “Please touch me. Please move, please.” She smirked and raised her hands to slide over his forearms, wrapping her fingers around his wrists and squeezing as tightly as she could. Her nails dug in and left angry pink marks in their wake. Then she sealed her lips over his and finally let herself press against him. The fullness of her breast against the strength of his chest with nothing but the thin and gauzy material of her nightgown to separate them. His breath was ragged, and Morgana felt the jump of his stomach muscles as he forced himself to hold still while she shifted. There was glorious friction and then she was all too still again. 

She kissed him until she ran short of breath then pulled back gasping. She took in his face, lips parted, eyes closed, the flush high across his cheeks and the thin sheen of sweat on his brow. He almost seemed to glow. Morgana rolled her hips, grinding down until he whined. “Tell me you love me.” 

He opened his eyes and they were flaming points of gold. Two molten reflections of the sun staring into her. Pressed between their bodies the brass locket seemed to heat for a moment. “I love you.” The words came out rough and low as though he had dragged them up from somewhere deep inside of himself. “I love you Morgana.” It sounded almost like a threat. 

She smirked, “I don’t believe you.”

“I love you, you’re my queen. I love you.” That was something she knew she would never tire of; Merlin calling her his queen. It gave her a malicious thrill. The joy of hearing something you knew should not have been said. Morgana felt a lovely tight little shiver inside of herself and moaned. 

She wanted that, to hear him say it, to let him pledge his love and devotion to her. Morgana brought her mouth back to Merlin’s ear and said, “Touch me.” 

He moved like a lightning strike, fast and almost violent in his fervency. He rose to a half-seated position one hand knotted tightly in her hair and the other gripping her hip with force enough to bruise. She gasped at the new angle and they rocked together.

Everything blended together. Morgana couldn’t tell the difference between the warmth of the room and the heat of his skin. It was magic, Merlin’s magic had cocooned around her, joining his body in a common goal. The room was painted yellow and gold by fires that raged in the hearth and at the liquid peeks of shrinking candles. Fire reaching for the sky, casting shadows of Merlin and Morgana’s flickering figures.

They rocked until Morgana threw her head back and opened her mouth in a silent scream and Merlin rocked her through it, making her muscles spasm and her entire body shake. He kept going, with his forehead pressed against the long column of her throat, mouthing at her collar bone as she wailed soundlessly, and her magic sunk into him through her fingers. It stung like little electric shocks, an extra dizzying sensation and when he finally stilled, Merlin bit down on his lip until it bled. 

Morgana broke away from him only when it became too much. When the stick of drying sweat and the heat of skin on skin drove her away. She retreated reluctantly. Forcing her fingers to unclench from his shoulders and leaning away to spread out on the bed, her legs still about his hips, her ears still ringing and her breast heaving in drawn-out pants. 

Likewise, Morgana watched Merlin’s chest heave. He was staring into the fire and Morgana wasn’t sure if his eyes were still filled with his magic of if they simply reflected the flames. There was a quickly purpling mark just beneath his jaw. She cataloged the pink scratched on his shoulders and the broken blood vessels that littered his throat and chest. After a few moments he returned his gaze to her. His eyes were blue. 

Morgana stretched out before him as he took her in. She smirked up at him. She felt his focus slide over her, starting where her legs were still loosely wrapped about his waist and then up her torso, over her breast and then her eyes. Merlin dipped his head and kissed the inside of her knee. She grinned and stretched again. His lips where soft and warm as they traveled up her thigh. He lightly nipped at the crease of her hip and for a moment hovered thoughtfully. Then she felt him, his mouth, his tongue. She gasped and arched. The sensation washed over her, and she whimpered softly. She wondered what it felt like to him. She wondered if he could taste himself there. 

Merlin reached up and pushed Morgana’s nightgown away for his hands to better roam over her chest and sides. The locket brushed against his fingers and caught his attention. He wrapped a hand around it. 

Morgana froze, “No, don’t touch that!”

Merlin released the locket without question. He looked up at her with dark eyes. The candles were burning low now. A few flickering and sputtering as they reached the end of their wicks. “Merlin,” she crooned, “Come here.” 

Merlin moved to hover above her. She reached up for him and pulled him down so that he was lying on top of her as they kissed. Her hands wandered absentmindedly. The warmth of him still hadn’t chased away the chill that had rand over her when he’d touched the locket, but she knew it could. The feel of him, his skin and his magic. Those where the things that brought her comfort, that chased away the visons. If she just stayed their entwined with him long enough the feeling would pass. 

A knock sounded at the door. Morgana sighed. She opened her mouth to dismiss whoever was on the other side, but the door swung open before she could get the words out. A pale faced Gwen burst through the door. She saw them and her pallor was overthrown by the heat of her blush. Gwen turned her back on the couple and cleared her throat. “I’m so sorry! I had to- have to.” Gwen pushed her embarrassment aside, “You must come to Gaius’s chambers my lady; its your sister.” 

…

Morgause was laid out on Gaius’s worktable. Her face was ashen, her lips were pail and bloodless. She was certainly dead. The gaping wound in her stomach was hard to mistake. An expert slice. It was almost medical. She had been gutted; she had bled to death on the dungeon floor in a matter of seconds. Morgana blinked back the tears that where gathering in her eyes. Guilt filled her. 

This was Arthur’s doing. She should have known better, should have killed him while she’d had the chance. Only she had loved it. Smug at her victory and thrilled by the idea of making sure that Arthur bore witness to what her Camelot could be. Riding that razor’s edge of fear that he might escape. She had become addicted to it. Now Morgause had payed the price for her arrogance. 

Gaius was looking at her. Gwen was standing at the door looking downcast and fretful. They were both waiting for her to react. To do something. She felt the weight of their gazes like an anvil on her chest. She couldn’t think. Her eyes kept drifting back to the ugly wound in Morgause’s stomach. Guilt. 

Morgause was meant to have been with her while she toured the lower town. Gaius guessed that was probably around the time that it had happened, though it was hard to nail down anything more specific. Morgana had been so caught up with having Gwen back, with having Merlin and feeling like herself again. She hadn’t given it more than an irritated, passing thought when her sister had failed to arrive and during that time Morgause had been lying on the floor of the dungeons dying or already dead. Who knew how long Arthur had been free? Guilt and rage. 

She could feel tears welling and she felt powerless to stop them. Morgana turned her face into Merlin’s chest. Hidden against him she let her face crumple. He soothed her, wrapping his arms about her, and hushing her softly as she wept. After it became clear that her hysterics where only growing, he lifted her into his arms and carried her back into the room that used to be his. 

Merlin sat on the bed still cradling Morgana and began to rock her gently as though she where a child. She was barely aware of Gwen hovering cautiously outside the room, but she heard Gaius. “Come away my child, let Merlin take care of her.” She pressed herself all the more tightly against him, gripping at his clothes.

She sobbed into Merlin’s neck for a few long moments before pulling away to look at him. His bright earnest eyes looked back. Gaius moved to stand at the open door of Merlin’s room. At first Morgana thought the look of worry was meant for her but Gaius’s eyes slid past her. He was looking at Merlin in some kind of sympathy. Morgana didn’t miss the accusing glance that the physician threw her way. He didn’t like her taking comfort in Merlin then. The realization filled her with such bitterness that she almost wanted to laugh. As though this was in any way worst than what she had been doing all along. Her lip curled against the old man’s judgment. She glared out at him from the crook of Merlin’s neck with wet eyes. 

It was enough to snap her out of her grief driven stupor. Magic aside, she was not among friends. She couldn’t afford to come apart. Shakely, she rose to her feet. Merlin let her go easily and did not stand himself. “Gwen,” The maid was at her side in an instant. The look of concern on her face was so genuine, Morgana reminded herself it wasn’t real. “Go and fetch Helios, tell him to meet me in the council chambers. A dangerous prisoner has escaped the dungeons and must be hunted down immediately.” 

Gwen bit her lip; she hated the idea of going to Helios. One look at Morgana’s tear streaked face was enough to make her push her fear aside. She bobbed a curtsy and turned for the door. As Gwen was crossing the chamber Morgana turned to look down at Merlin. He looked up at her with an open face full of worry and love. Morgana cleared her throat and braced herself. There would be no way to hide it, she was going to have to take a risk. Morgana sighed shakily and took Merlin’s face in her hands. It was time to test the effectiveness of all her work. “Merlin, its about,” she hesitated, looking into his eyes intensely. “Its about Arthur.” 

Something gold swam through Merlin’s mind, familiar but unrecognizable. His face crinkled in confusion as he said, “Who is Arthur?” 

Morgana’s face broke into a slightly soggy smile and she kissed him lightly on the lips. 

Just as she was stepping into the hall, Gwen froze. Something foggy reared up in her mind and demanded examination. She knew that name… Arthur. With the strangest sense of secrecy, Gwen stepped into the hall and closed the door behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> (I strongly subscribe to the idea that people under love spells are just full on crazy. They don’t care about anything that they haven’t been enchanted to care about. Whoever casts the spell becomes the focus of their entire world. Its literally my favorite trope.)


End file.
